Chapter 1

It was a rather magnificent scene of uncoordinated chaos.

On one side of the road stumbled a scrawny boy, crashing to the ground in an unbelievably cartoonish manner. A manner that could’ve been avoided if it wasn’t for his own useless attempts to break his fall making everything worse. As he plummeted, his hood came loose, revealing a head of tacky black hair that reflected the boy’s lack of style and an emerald-eyed, freckled face that betrayed his age. He appeared years younger than he was and looked remarkably childish, due to his boyish face and small stature.

On the other end of the road was an even smaller and slightly chubby, but also athletic, girl, recoiling as she clutched her gut in pain. From her unrealistically red-haired head sprouted two fluffy wolf-like ears, and from her rear an equally vibrant and fluffy red tail. Perhaps she’d been on her way to an early Halloween party, it was October after all… but if she had been, she’d chosen an incredibly lazy costume. Aside from her ears and tail, her outfit was otherwise normal, consisting of a somewhat dirty gray tank top and a pair of shorts.

I wonder if she’s cold… The boy, Herring, wondered to himself as he struggled to crane his head and observe his attacker. He’d managed to land on his back and found himself sprawled across the street. For the first time that night, he’d been lucky. The impact from his fall had been distributed across his body, thus being rather minimal.

“...Wait, why am I thinking about that?!” Herring’s voice cracked as he leapt up from the ground. His mouth burned from where he’d bitten his tongue moments earlier, but even that couldn’t quell his vitriol. “What the hell’s your deal?! Why’d you jump me like that?!”

Herring stared swords at the girl who had also gotten up and was now chuckling to herself, evidently finding his anger to be the funniest thing in the world. For some reason, she seemed absolutely elated.

“H-Hey…! Quit laughing at me! I’m talking to you here.” Spit flew from Herring’s mouth as he marched over to the girl. He’d planned to size her up and try to find some answers. But he found himself cut off. It wasn’t like he could’ve been all that intimidating anyways.

“Pfft… Were you surprised—?” The girl spoke up in a jauntily taunting voice that oozed snideness, but before she could finish her reveling, she sprung to action. Behind Herring had appeared two bright headlights. A large truck was seconds from striking him. It had swiftly rounded a turn and was bearing down on him as he stomped towards the girl, oblivious. “Watch out, Herring!”

—So the girl found herself tackling Herring once more, moving urgently to take them both off of the road.

The two tumbled into the grass and ended up in the awkward position of looking at each other with equally blank expressions, touching down just as the truck passed them by. There was a split second where everything seemed to stand still as they stared at one another, the dire nature of what had just transpired lingering in their minds.

“—That isn’t how our story starts, ya dingus!” The girl suddenly chastised Herring, breaking free from their shared entrancement. The mocking tone in her voice was now muddied by relief at their safe retreat, and her dog-like ears dropped from an alert position. “Yeesh. And here I thought you hated those overdone tropes.”

Herring’s mind raced as he tried to process everything that had occurred—that was occurring. It was like trying to put two and two together, but every time the solution was found someone would tack on another two and ask for the new answer. A never ending problem that kept becoming more and more complex as time passed and your attention wavered.

Who was this girl? Why had she attacked him? Why had she saved him? Her motivations were lost on Herring. So all he did was blink there, bewildered. It wasn’t until he picked apart what she’d said that he came to realize what was going on. “You… You called me Herring…”

“Well, of course I did.” The girl responded, her tail now wagging as her friend slowly caught on to what was going on. “I mean, I don’t think I even know your real name.”

“You’ve gotta be joking…” The sound of Herring’s heart beating out of his chest pierced the still night sky. It was pounding increasingly faster, crescendoing into a quicker pace than when he’d been tackled away from the truck mere moments prior. “There’s only two people who would call me that—by that name, that is.”

“Eh… what?” The girl tilted her head, put off by a supposed second person who would call Herring by his online alias. “There’s another?”

“Oh yeah, there’s a barista who uses my online name for my orders.”

“But why?”

“I’d just had a long play session, so I, tired as I was, panicked and gave her the wrong name…”

“Ah, that makes sense for you.”

“I hate that it does…”

The two fell into a rapidfire banter without realizing it—the type that could only be done so naturally between long acquainted individuals. It wasn’t until the brief tangent ended and Herring recovered from recollecting that he continued his realization.

“Anyways, is that… That’s you isn’t it, Redlette?” Herring shook his head in awe. The only (other) person who’d call him “Herring” would be his best friend. Nobody else.

“That’s me—” The girl—no—Redlette began to respond… only to be interrupted by a bony fist in her arm. It’d been swung at her in an attempt to punch her, but it utterly failed to hurt her whatsoever. Actually, Herring’s wail of “You asshole!” that erupted from his mouth as he’d lunged towards her had hurt more.

Redlette took a breath in, most likely preparing a snide remark about Herring’s punch, but it was soon squeezed out of her. Before she could talk, Herring had wrapped his arms around her and was tightly hugging her. His voice shaking, he stammered, “Th-This is so bizarre. Why are you here, you asshole…?”

“Urgh… how does it hurt more when you’re being all gushy…?” Redlette desperately squirmed, trying to free herself from Herring’s grasp. He had a surprisingly strong hug for someone with such a weak punch. When she finally managed to yank him away she beamed a strong, genuine smile, “Well, I came to see you, of course.”

“That’s…” Herring stood still, his mind racing and his heart palpitating. He looked over Redlette once more in disbelief. His best friend was right in front of him and… “Wait. What’s going on there?”

Herring motioned to Redlette’s tail, which was briskly swiping left to right in her joy. It was quite the abnormal sight, but the realist part of his mind didn’t allow him to come to any assumptions about it. Although, the nerdy, obsessive part of his mind was absolutely racing.

“Well… let’s just say that’s a long story.” Redlette exhaled, clearly not looking forward to the explanation she owed Herring. “For now can we head back to your place? It’s been a long week, and I don’t feel like sitting in this grass long enough to become a tick nest.”

“Oh, yeah.” Herring blinked, shelving his questions for the time being. Then, as Redlette’s words struck his mind, a dreadful look came over his face. In a matter of seconds after realization, he bolted up from the ground and started manically patting down his arms, legs, and back, shuddering as he thought about arachnids crawling across his body. “Shit, shit, shit! You’re right! This is totally prime tick territory!”

Watching her friend panic, Redlette’s eyes narrowed and a satisfied expression washed over her face. Without waiting for Herring to finish his episode, she tugged on his shirt and forced him to get moving.

»»»

The two found themselves standing at the top of a long winding driveway amidst a clearing in the woods—the path leading to Herring’s home, a two-story American Craftsman-style house that looked utterly unremarkable and remarkably replicable. Even still, it was oversized, considering it only really housed him and his sister.

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” Redlette groaned, wondering why they’d come to a complete stop upon arrival. It’d been immediate. As soon as they touched down in the vicinity of Herring’s house, their momentum halted as he’d firmly planted his feet on the ground, wary to step forward. For the easily distractible Redlette, this sudden stoppage was likely as exhausting as the football game had been for Herring. “I’ve had a pretty long week, y’know? I’d like to get some rest eventually.”

Redlette’s complaining jolted Herring back into reality. He shot her the most “Really?” glare he could muster. Not only did she seemingly never sleep, causing him to doubt her tiredness, but she’d made his day akin to a messed up purgatory of awkwardness and embarrassment. If anyone was exhausted, it should’ve been him. It was him! Although, being with his best friend in person had certainly stoked some semblance of energy back into him. The only thing that was holding him back was… “Jenny…”

“Eh?” Redlette tilted her head like a dog, trying to understand what Herring had said. She was slow on the uptake as always. “Oh, you mean that nosy sister of yours? What’s she gotta do with anything?”

“What do you think?!” Herring chided sarcastically. “Nevermind that. I know you don’t think. —Anyways, how the hell am I meant to explain any of this to her?”

“Ah… So that’s your hold up.”

It was a rather precarious position. Not only had Herring not informed his sister that he’d be home later than usual due to a fear that he’d be laughed at for the reasoning behind it—which he almost surely would’ve been—but now he was towing along someone she didn’t know with him, expecting her to let them stay at the house.

Plus, despite being a no-life bum who leeched off of their father’s generosity to remain at home with only a part-time job, Jenny took her other job as Herring’s guardian rather seriously. When he wasn’t around, she got stressed out almost like a mother would. That is, if a mother’s worry was replaced with sheer annoyance and spite with a glare as ruthless as a whip.

All these factors led to Herring’s overwhelming apprehension towards going home. He feared the repercussions.

“Well we don’t have to go back… We could always… No, it’s not time for that. Not yet.” Redlette began to speak up, but before she could finish what she was saying, she caught herself and her words became a mumble. Hearing this created a spark of curiosity in Herring’s mind; however, it wasn’t given time to catch fire.

Redlette, bearing a wry smile that forewarned the stupidity of the words she was about to say, took a hearty step forward, “There’s a simple solution to your problem, my good friend! When faced with a reality that’s too much to bear… You avoid it!”

And there it was—a solution so simple yet simultaneously so idiotic.

“Avoid it, how, exactly? The living room’s right by the entrance to the house, and I can assure you that’s where Jenny’s at.”

“Here, just follow my lead,” Redlette declared, motioning for Herring to come along with her. Her bravado didn’t exactly soothe his fears, but it was something for him to cling onto, albeit weakly and foolishly.

The two made their way down Herring’s driveway and towards his front porch, chlorophyll cracking as they waded through a carpet of leaves yet to be raked. Arriving at his front porch, they climbed up the mired stairs and arrived at his front door, cloaking their already messy shoes even further in mud. As soon as they did so, Herring peeked into a nearby window that showed into the living room, scouting for his sister.

Sure enough, his fears had been grounded. There she was, wasting away on the couch watching gruesome true-crime shows with her elbow resting against her pale freckled cheek and her messy, dark brown hair masking her glasses-covered eyes from showing any emotion. It was like peering into Bigfoot’s den—like observing an anomaly that was never meant to be seen.

“Yup. She’s there. So now what?” Herring aggressively whispered to Redlette, not wanting to give away their position when they were so close by.

“Hmm? Don’t you know?” Redlette responded, not whispering or paying any mind to Herring’s worries. “In times like this… We run for it!”

After declaring her lack of a proper plan, Redlette wasted no time in shooting open the front door. It violently slammed against the mudroom wall, certainly alerting Jenny to their arrival, and ricocheted back into Herring’s face, causing him to stumble.

Recovering, he desperately bolted after his friend who’d already slammed open the next door and was rocketing towards the staircase at the far end of the following foyer, her crimson hair making her look like a burning comet with a tail of mud left in her wake. She hadn’t even wiped off her feet.

You’ve gotta be kidding me… Taking notice of the footprints, Herring felt a heavy weight of responsibility press onto him. His friend’s lack of awareness left him momentarily awestruck. Although, he knew if he didn’t cover up her trail, it wouldn’t matter how quickly they made it through the house—they’d be caught anyways. So, as he followed after her, he mimicked her path, placing his own footprints overtop the already existing ones. Instead of looking like two people, it’d just look like one really clumsy individual, which would be more realistic, considering Herring was, in fact, clumsy.

However, where it would prove to be beneficial towards masking their trail, there was one issue with that reality. As mentioned, he was clumsy, and the muddy tracks Redlette left were slippery. An amalgamation of contradicting factors was created upon the coupling and, nearing the end of the foyer himself, Herring stomped a foot down a bit too eagerly and found his balance lost.

Before he knew it, he was helplessly flailing as he tried to recover his balance, only to end up shifting himself the littlest bit forward. Like a defeated training dummy, he stiffly fell to the ground face-first, casting the remaining mud into a mold of his visage. He’d successfully cleared up Redlette’s tracks, but failed at maintaining his dignity. The rest of the foyer was free from any revealing footprints.

Turning himself onto his back, Herring looked up towards the ceiling and the bright chandelier that swayed above him, causing his world to appear as though it, too, was swaying. Once his vision became still again, he could make out two figures. One was Redlette, who’d made it to the top of the staircase and was peeking around the right-side corner to see if he was alright, half worried and half amused by his wipeout. The other was his sister, looking down at him with a forlorn expression that showed nothing but pity and contempt, her eyes naturally squinting as though he was hard to look upon.

After lingering there for a moment, having been floored with the floored Herring, Jenny fired off the signature Brickford family glare—an inherited glare that took full advantage of their naturally unamused and judgmental expression to thoroughly crush souls. “So… What have you been up to exactly…?”

“Oh, you know…” Herring’s mind, overloaded with stimulus as it was, struggled to come up with an excuse. Both mentally and physically he was exhausted, and the force of Jenny’s glare only strained him more. So, unable to come up with an excuse, he laughed awkwardly, “Just… Just hanging around. Like I do.”

“Right...” Jenny removed her gaze from Herring and scratched her head, unsure of how to take his pathetic response. Her brother was typically a bit more sharp.

Evidently, though, she came to some sort of a conclusion and turned around, raising a hand to signal for Herring to follow. “When you’re done ‘hanging around’ on the floor, come on up to my room. We’re gonna have a little chat, okay?”

Without waiting for a response, she then turned off the TV in the nearby living room and made her way upstairs to her own room, her temperamental steps echoing through the open area of the small foyer like resonant doom. Despite her composure and generally disinterested demeanor, it was clear. She was pissed.

Herring casted a glance up in the direction of Redlette who had since disappeared from her location, likely having stealthed her way into another room to hide. He thanked the lord that she at least had a strong enough intuition to do that. Since she’d gone towards the side of the hall with his room and not Jenny’s, he wasn’t completely out of luck.

“What a night…” Herring spoke hushedly under his breath as to not alert Jenny of his back talk, his voice cracking. For a while he simply laid there on the ground, ruminating in his own fall from grace. It’d been a wild night, that was for sure. And much to his dismay, the night wasn’t over. “Seriously, what a messed up night.”

But as was inevitable, eventually he accepted his fate. Rising from the ground like a monster emerging from a bog, Herring found his footing once more. Walking like a prisoner on his way to the guillotine, he trudged towards Jenny’s room. No matter how much he wanted to get answers from Redlette, he’d need to give his own to his sister first. And she scared him far more than missing out on some time with his friend. Far far more.

»»»

Herring slinked into his room, hunched over and exhausted like a battle-worn soldier. His sister had been unexpectedly brutal, taking her job as his guardian rather seriously. Although, Herring knew that a majority of her scolding came out of a fear of being reprimanded herself by their father. If anything happened to him, she’d be the one to shoulder the blame.

Regardless, he was just glad to be in the sanctuary that was his bedroom—an orderly area of anime figures, light novels, and other collectors items all encompassing a twin-sized bed beneath a window and a complex three-monitor, bright LED desktop setup in its rightmost corner. When he was in his room, he was safe and free to go on whatever adventures his computer could bring him on. Plus, he had friends… or more accurately, a friend, oblivious as she was... “Would it kill you to have the littlest bit of self-awareness? You left footprints all through the house. I literally had to bust my ass to cover your tracks.”

“Oh, you’re back.” Redlette swerved an office chair to face Herring, having made herself overly at home in the half-hour of his reckoning. She’d stationed herself on his PC, and already his usually tidy desk was covered with snacks and unhealthy meals—chips, chocolate, hot dogs, and so on. A large pile of wrappers and trash was gradually accumulating mass in the wake of her gluttony. It was honestly quite impressive that she’d managed to hoard such a display without being caught. Herring hadn’t heard her in the slightest bit, which was in stark contrast with her boisterous nature and her build. “By the way, you did not bust your ass. You fell on your face… pathetically. I coulda sworn you were trying to make me laugh.”

“Thanks for your input.” Herring internally rolled his eyes, choosing not to pursue a convoluted counter. Normally being with Redlette was a comfort for him, but this time he was with her in person. “Wait, what do you think you’re doing?!”

“Hm…?” Redlette glanced over her shoulder, having turned back around to what she was doing on his computer. “Don’t worry, I didn’t mess with anything on your desktop. I know how neurotic you can be about that typa stuff. And I didn’t message anyone on your accounts, either.”

“That’s not the issue!” Herring, now reinvigorated, dashed over to his computer where Redlette was playing their go-to MMO, Rungeon, on his character without his permission. When he arrived by her side, he leaned over her and seized control of his mouse. “You’re doing this all wrong. You gotta stick with the party! She’s a tank, y’know.”

“Pffft… you really just referred to your character as ‘she.’” Redlette snickered to herself, charging still further ahead of her party with the keyboard controls alone as she literally ran a dungeon, “Besides, you’re one to talk… You don’t tank right, either.”

“That’s because you’re a crappy healer!” Herring swiped the mouse to the side, spinning the camera in a 180 in an attempt to coerce Redlette to move back to the party. However, she’d fought back against him, moving the character awkwardly forward by having them walk backwards. The whole facade looked ridiculous, like someone had a seizure while playing. “You never actually heal— you just storm right into enemies and die!”

“And? You just run away from them, blubbering about how you don’t wanna lose all your gear. You gotta have guts, man.” Redlette took back control of the mouse and dashed forward through the doors of a boss room, which closed before her party could get anywhere close to catching up with her.

“Wh-what are you doing…?! Wait for your team, dammit!” Herring, now at the mercy of Redlette and her absurd hours in the MMO, watched on helplessly as she tried to solo a dungeon boss that they’d never beaten as a team, much less done critical damage to. “Oh, and can you blame me for running? The grind for new stuff sucks.”

“I never have good stuff, so I wouldn’t know.” Redlette retorted.

“That’s cuz you always rush in and die!” Herring retorted.

“Do not!” Redlette retorted..

“Do to! I mean, you literally just did!” Herring retorted..

“Did not!” Redlette retorted...

“Seriously?! We’re doing this?! You’re such a kid—” Herring retorted...

“Well at least my character still has all their gear.” During their squabble, Herring had redirected his focus from the game towards Redlette—a fatal error. Before he could argue any further, the Dungeon Failure screen was displayed along with a list of lost items.

“Why… you…” Herring grew red in the face. He wanted more than anything to grab Redlette by the collar and to shake her around, but instead, after a pause to collect his thoughts, he just started laughing to himself. A wave of joyous familiarity had washed over him. “Heheheh... Seriously, this just feels right. What did I expect?”

“Pfft… Fwahaha! I know right?! It’s super sweet doing this stuff with you in person, man.” Redlette laughed back uproariously. The two, beaming at each other as happy as can be, bumped fists as if it were an instinct.

“Yeah, it is… but keep it down!” Herring hurriedly broke the moment and threw his hands over Redlette’s still laughing mouth, attempting to muffle her roar. Turning an ear to the hallway, he paused. It was only once he was sure Jenny hadn’t heard them that he stepped back and addressed Redlette, “Alright...”

Herring exhaled with a warm smile on his face. Relieved and in good spirits, he headed to the other side of his room and pulled out an older office chair from his closet. He rolled it up next to Redlette and hunched over, readying himself for a night of gaming antics. “We’ll attempt the dungeon again, but please try to keep it down from now on, okay? Oh, and this time, please listen to me.”

“Roger that! I’ll listen to what you say… probably.” The two bumped fists once more and then Redlette situated herself more comfortably in the office chair, pushing her tail to the side and reclining in a back-breaking manner.

Herring watched as her tail swayed contently, a flurry of questions spilling into his mind. Later. I’ll ask about that later. Then, shedding his curiosity, he recollected his thoughts and started coaching Redlette through tanking. While he couldn’t tank correctly, he at least knew how to.

The night trudged on as nights tended to do and, and after the emotionally exhausting day he’d had, Herring found himself becoming increasingly weary. It’d been approximately 2:30AM when his exhaustion became unbearable—it was early for him to get so tired, but he supposed it was understandable. That one day had contained more stimulus than a typical year in his life. It was only natural he’d be worn out.

“Hey, Redlette…” Herring looked to his friend with pleading eyes, ones that he was struggling to keep open.

“Wassup?”

“How do you have so much energy?” Herring yawned, standing up from his seat. “Surely, you must be exhausted, too? You said it yourself. Your day’s probably been longer than mine.”

“Hmm…” Redlette followed Herring, who was heading over to his bed. He’d taken the executive decision to end their MMO romp—not like they were getting any progress done anyways. They’d failed the dungeon dozens of times by that point. “I guess… I just don’t get tired?”

“What…? That’s ridiculous.” Herring sat on his bed, fighting against the temptation to simply spread himself out and go to sleep. However, fighting wasn’t Herring’s forte, so he soon found himself spread out anyways, putting everything he had into remaining conscious. “You stay up inhuman hours, you’ve got cartoonishly red hair… and not to mention those ears and a tail…”

“Uh… Herring?” Redlette eyed her friend with concern. His words were becoming a murmur that would be hard to pick up on using human ears. Seeing her friend slowly drift into unconsciousness, she likely found herself more desperate to get what she wanted, perhaps needed, to say off of her mind. So in a frantic, pleading voice she told Herring, “Don’t fall asleep, dude! You’re onto something, y’know? Seriously, I’ve got something important to tell you!”

“Just tell me…” Herring said, or more accurately, whispered as his eyes gently closed.

“Well… uh… I… How do I put this right…?” Redlette struggled with what she wanted to say, or rather, how she wanted to put what she wanted to say. She wasn’t the most verbose and lacked skill in communication, so it took large amounts of effort to word what she wanted to tell him as concisely as possible, “I’ll just come out and say it. I’m from another world! And I wanna go on adventures with you in it! Whaddaya say, man?!”

A strong silence stood in the air after Redlette blurted this, the outside howls of the fall wind becoming more audible. And yet, Herring’s mind was too tired. He couldn’t process what she’d said. All he could do was fall asleep with a warm, understanding smile, mumbling, “Oh, I see…”

From that point on, no matter how much Redlette jostled him around or cried out to him, he wouldn’t wake up. Herring was a surprisingly deep sleeper for such a scrawny guy. So, giving up all hope in an immediate response, she climbed into bed next to Herring and slept, if for no other reason than to pass time.

The nearby computer could be seen going into sleep mode as its roaring fan came to a stop and its screen went black. Laying there in the still night, Redlette snored and Herring mumbled in their sleep. They were laying like monkeys in a barrel, interlocked in what appeared to be the most uncomfortable positions imaginable. And yet it was a wholesome symbol of their pure friendship, illuminated by the pale glow of the moonlight filtering through the bedside window as they practically strangled one another in their sleep.

This was their friendship... whether it could be considered the culmination of all its years or the start of its years to come.